


Cautionary

by Androxys



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Arguing, Bruce Wayne's C+ Parenting, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Lazarus Pit Madness, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Sibling Bonding, Stephanie Brown is Spoiler, crime fighting and emotional honesty is bonding right?, mindfulness, no beta we die like robins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:14:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24975181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Androxys/pseuds/Androxys
Summary: Red Hood calls in for an assist to stop one of Carmine Falcone's drug shipments. Spoiler shows up to help. Spoiler gets hurt. Conversations ensue. People say stuff they don't mean and some stuff they do-- breakfast ensues.
Relationships: Stephanie Brown & Jason Todd
Comments: 6
Kudos: 73





	1. Break

“You’re not who I was expecting.”

Spoiler crossed her arms, leaning forward slightly. “Yeah, well, I’m what you’ve got.”

Red Hood did not, as a general rule, call for help. Not from Bruce or his brood, and never for something so small-time as drug dealers. So Oracle had been notably surprised when he had called in requesting backup. Especially since she hadn’t known he had access to that particular comms channel. But the ever merciful Saint Babs had complied with the request, telling him to sit tight while she diverted someone his way. Not five minutes later, it seemed she had sent her bestest B-Lister. Superb. Fine. Hood could work with it. He really only needed a second pair of hands and eyes.

Jason had fully been expecting Nightwing. He knew Dick was in town--had seen him swinging across the rooftops. Jason hat thought _maybe_ Red Robin would be sent, if Oracle or the universe really wanted to test him tonight. If he was being honest with himself, he had been holding out a little hope for Robin or Batgirl; those two understood the value of a job done quick and well. Emphasis on the quick. While he was always down for some good ol’ button-pushing, he wasn’t sure he had it in him tonight to go round-for-round with Tim or put up with Dick’s patronizing pleasantries. Bruce had been out of the question. Oracle never sent him to Jason, which he supposed was another of her small mercies, though Jason wasn’t sure for whom. Spoiler though… it wasn’t that Jason didn’t like working with her. She was fine, he supposed. She had a grit to her that he recognized and admired, and a quiet, intense desperation to prove herself that he recognized and didn’t.

“Jesus Christ,” Spoiler breathed. She had leaned over the railing, scoping out the warehouse below. “Look at the size of that guy.” They were on a rooftop in Tricorner, the night air catching the corner of Spoiler’s cape. Jason had been painstakingly tracking this operation for over a month now, tracing the drug lines from the streets up. And boy, did it go up.

“Yep.” Jason popped the P.

“He must be seven feet tall, with muscles for _days_.”

“You think organized crime was his fallback when the Guardsmen wouldn’t draft him?”

“I see now why you called for backup,” she said, tapping the edge of her hood to disable her binoculars. “I’ve gotta say, you spooked Oracle with your call.”

Under the hood, Jason’s mouth twitched into a frown. “Good. Like to know I can still command some attention. Any other night, busting Falcone’s coke lines would be easy breezy, but I took one look at him and thought twice. I’m not interested in getting splatted by that giant while dealing with the others.”

“Maybe it’s Venom?” Spoiler brought a hand up to her chin. “Or another steroid? How he got so big? It can’t be natural.”

Hood shrugged. “Maybe he’s lab grown. I don’t really give a shit, I just didn’t want to go in alone versus thugosaurus and five other goons.”

Jason didn’t miss the way Stephanie’s hand tightened around the railing, even if he didn’t know why. “You ready?” Spoiler’s voice was firm, level. Absolutely contrived.

“Sure.” And then he was falling. Over the railing, down into the warehouse, landing firmly on one of the goons. “Howdy,” he quipped, and then he started shooting.

Smoke bloomed around them, no doubt Spoiler’s doing. Hood sighed, switching over to his mask’s tactical vision. “Hood,” Spoiler growled, and Jason had to wonder for a moment if Bruce was holding seminars: How to Disapprove of Jason’s Guns in a Bat-Honoring Way.

“Non-lethal,” he snarled in response, crouching to dodge a right hook before shooting the guy’s leg. It was a lie, he was using real bullets, but so long as he didn’t kill anyone it counted as non-lethal, right? Hood kicked the guy in the gut for good measure and turned to the next thug.

To his left, he could see Spoiler practically climbing a guy, pulling him down with a gravity assist before throwing him into the goon next to him. She gave him a wave before she threw… something… and the two were covered in some kind of adhesive, keeping them down.

“Nice toy. You think if I’m a good boy I may get one in my stocking this year?”

Spoiler declined to answer, instead drawing that big nunchaku staff of hers and advancing on thugosaurus. Jason swore under his breath-- she was outpacing him badly. Though, there was something in her fighting that was bothering him. She seemed desperate in a way that made him uneasy. Jason could say a lot about Bruce, but his training wasn’t sloppy. Spoiler was bordering on so tonight. Hood drew his grapple claw, firing it into the crisp suit of the fifth Falcone enforcer. He had just pulled a knife, and Jason hardly found that sporting seeing as he hadn’t drawn his own. Hood pulled, and the goon came falling straight into Hood’s rising knee, catching an elbow to the head for good measure. Jason panted, feeling the adrenaline race in his veins. His body hummed, desperate for more, craving the next hit, threatening to drown him in some frenzy, ancient and demanding. He took just a moment, to turn panting to breath, to push back the call. Behind him, Spoiler screamed in pain. He turned just in time to catch Spoiler crashing into him, sending them both to the floor.

“He’s strong,” Spoiler wheezed.

“I assumed. That’s why I wanted to fight him as a duo.”

Thugosaurus cocked his head. “Do you always talk during a fight so much?”

“Comes with the turf,” Red Hood sighed, and then he shot him.

“Hood!” Spoiler screamed, untangling herself from where they’d fallen and running to the man.

“Thanks for the cover,” Red Hood said, standing up and brushing himself off. “Your sprawled, prone form definitely hid the gun well.”

“You said you were non-lethal!”

Jason rolled his eyes. “He’s not dead, is he?”

Spoiler paused, and Jason could see some of the tension in her shoulders relax when she realized the wound, while certainly painful and debilitating, wouldn’t be life threatening. “You didn’t shoot to kill.” Jason wasn’t sure for whose sake she was saying it.

“Nope. Talk about frying pans and fires. Now help me drag these guys out and destroy all this.”

Spoiler froze, eyeing him. “We’re not going to send it to GCPD for evidence?”

Jason shook his head. “Nah. Falcone just got this in-- the only people who know it exists are Carmine, these goons, and us. Sending it to GCPD is just going to let crooked cops leak it out on the street, making more of a mess to clean up later. More lives ruined. I’m going to destroy it before anyone else can find out about it. Plus, it sends a signal. Lets him know it’s me playing, and he knows I play hardball.” _You can try to stop me if you want_ , rang out the silent challenge. Spoiler didn’t take the bait.

In the end, it took nearly their whole supply of explosive gel to cover the entire shipment. They moved all of Falcone’s incapacitated men outside, tying them together and leaving a little note for the GCPD. Hood scoffed at that, but Spoiler insisted. It reminded her of Batman’s early days, she said. It reminded Jason of them too. The two exited the warehouse the way they came in-- through the roof-- and Jason allowed himself a smile as he thumbed down the trigger, watching the drugs be blasted away.

“Good work,” he offered, regarding Spoiler. She was against the railing, watching the smoke lazily curl up from the warehouse floor. “Spoiler,” he tried again, when she didn’t respond. He wasn’t exactly fishing for a thank-you, but he didn’t tend to just throw out compliments willy-nilly.

“Do you ever wish you could just take a break,” she asked, so softly that Jason almost missed it. “Just… make it all stop?”

Jason’s eyes narrowed behind the hood. Her eyes hadn’t moved from the smoldering pallets. Her posture was tense, but it belied a bone deep exhaustion.

No,” Jason said, reaching out to tap her shoulder, pulling her attention back up onto the rooftop. “Never.”

A snort. “Me neither.” She straightened, and it was like she was a different person. She regarded the skyline, then tapped her gauntlet, checking the time. “Shit, we need to get out of here.”

There was an urgency in her tone that didn’t sit right with Jason. “Why?”

“I…” Bashful wasn’t an emotion in Spoiler’s repertoire, but she was toeing the line. “Okay, don’t get mad. I maybe wasn’t exactly dispatched by Oracle to help you.”

“What.” It wasn’t a question, but a demand. _Tell me,_ Jason thought, _what you did and how fast I need to be running._

“I’m not technically supposed to be on patrol tonight. But I intercepted your conversation with Oracle, and headed over.”

“So any minute now we’re going to have tall, dark, and grumpy breathing down our necks?”

“After you destroyed all that evidence,” she added.

“Fuck. Okay. Bye, then.” Red Hood turned, eager to get out of there before whoever Oracle had sent arrived, but he stalled, something registering just out of the corner of his eye.

“Spoiler, wait.”

She turned, a frown working its way down her face. Wow. Batman was definitely giving lessons. “What? We need to go, and splitting up is a safer bet.”

“Yeah, but you’re injured.” If he hadn’t been sure before, the way her body tightened in indignation and sheer stubbornness confirmed it. Vigilantes, he bemoaned. All the same.

“It’s fine,” Spoiler insisted, drawing her cape around her leg. “I don’t even think it’s bleeding.”

“Is it fine enough to outrun Nightwing?” A defiant silence. “I didn’t think so.” Jason paused, glancing around, evaluating his options and weighing possibilities. “I have a safehouse nearby we can crash in. Unless you want to hang around and hope Geek Charming is the one to find you?”

Spoiler’s eyes narrowed, and if he could have seen under the mask Jason was sure he would have seen Stephanie grit her teeth. “How far’s this safehouse?”

“Eh. Six minutes on a regular night, so ten with you? We need to get going.”

She took a limping step, then stopped, suspicious. “Why? You’re normally super defensive of your bolt holes and hiding spots. And more than pleased to see B chew someone out.”

Jason crossed his arms. _Because tonight, for some reason, I pity you,_ probably wouldn’t go over well. The truth rarely did. “Sneaking out or not, Batman’ll kill me if I let you go and ruin your leg or ankle or whatever even more. Not to mention Oracle or Batgirl.” 

Spoiler didn’t say anything, just gestured for Hood to get a move on. He obliged, heading across the rooftops. They peeled north, moving into central Chinatown. Jason gazed to the east, trying to shake the feeling that the illuminated faces of the clock tower weren’t eyes, searching out into the night. He didn’t really succeed. He shook his head, both at the thought and at his leading Spoiler on their midnight run. He was getting soft.

“Here,” he grunted after a few minutes of rooftop parkour. He had to give the kid credit, they made it a full minute faster than he thought they would. He slid down onto the fire escape and eased the window open, fishing a remote out of his pocket and aiming it inside. He slipped through, a hand beckoning Spoiler to do the same.

Jason closed the window and drew the blinds as Spoiler limped to the couch, falling into it as much as sitting down before taking off her mask, tossing it onto the coffee table. Stephanie looked around the room, giving Jason a blankly quizzical glance before she elevated her leg.

“Don’t scuff my coffee table with your boot,” he grumbled, heading to the bathroom. 

Stephanie rolled her eyes, not that Jason could see it. “This is your safehouse?”

Jason frowned. “Yeah. Don’t like the way I decorated?”

“No,” Stephanie said, drawing out the word before pausing. “It’s just… it looks more like an apartment. Like, a place where you live.” It did. It wasn’t large by any means, but that was just Gotham real estate. She was seated on a comfortable, if somewhat beat up couch, with her foot resting on an obviously IKEA coffee table cluttered with take out menu and receipts and empty mugs. There was even a little TV on a stand in the corner of the room. She couldn’t see the kitchen from where she was sitting, but if she craned her head, Steph was pretty sure she would find dishes in the sink. “I thought you had an apartment over in Park Row.”

“I do. It’s a hop, skip, and a jump away from Row’s place, where I know you stay sometimes.” Jason had moved in front of her now, kneeling by her leg. He had lost the helmet and the mask, and Steph always forgot how close in age they actually were-- how near a future Jason could be. The thought sat in her stomach, twisting sharp knots. “Now let’s get your leg fixed so you can go there and get out of here.” He inspected her suit for punctures, and finding none, retrieved her an ice pack.

“Keep that on it while I get you a pair of sweats or something to wear,” he ordered.

Stephanie looked down at herself. “What’s wrong with this?”

Jason shrugged. “Purple clashes with the couch.” 

He found a pair of sweats that he knew would absolutely drown Steph, but there weren’t many options and any of them were better than kevlar and spandex. He dropped them in her lap, leaving her to change while he retreated to the kitchenette. Tea, he always made tea post patrol. It was a habit that had started in his Robin days, when he and Alfred would share a cup after Batman and Robin got back but before Jason was sent to bed. Jason shook his head, mouth pulling. Alfred must have been bone tired after those long nights of manning the comms in the days before Oracle, but he always stuck it out for Jason. Bless him. He needed to drop in and see the old guy; Jason didn’t exactly show up for family dinner, but he occasionally broke into the manor and joined Alfred for a cup of tea when he knew Bruce wouldn’t be around. It was a game they played, and Jason sometimes fooled himself into thinking all players enjoyed it.

Stephanie let out a low whistle, jerking Jason from his thoughts. She had changed, and was elevating her foot with the leg of the sweat pants rolled up. Mottled bruising was blooming down her shin, wrapping around to discolor the side of her ankle. “Damn,” she swore. “He got me good.”

“Yeah.” Jason pulled a stool around to the other side of the coffee table, sitting a mug of tea in front of Stephanie before taking his sip of his own. “You were kind of a mess out there tonight.”

Unexpected anger blazed in her eyes for a second, but to her credit, Steph picked up her mug and took a sip of the tea before responding. “This is good,” she offered. “Tastes like something Alfred would serve.”

“He turned me on to it,” Jason replied flatly, but he wasn’t interested in pleasantries over Alfred’s fine taste. “Now seriously. What happened tonight?”

Stephanie sat the mug down with a little more force than necessary, crossing her arms. “If I wanted a lecture, I would have just waited for Dick to catch me. I didn’t think you--” she cut off, blue eyes distant as she bit her lip.

Jason took another sip of tea. He could wait her out. The silent moment extended, and Jason had to bite back the urge to chuckle-- it almost felt like counseling, how Dinah used to let a much younger Jason take his time to sort out his emotions before putting them to words. He wasn’t Dinah, and this was some shit funhouse mirror of therapy, but the connection burned in his mind.

“I’m upset,” Steph said.

Jason gave a lazy shrug. “Okay.”

She let out an annoyed huff. “I’m upset, but I don’t feel like I have anything to be upset over, but that just makes me upset more. I can’t go back to the place in the Narrows. Harper’s doing her thing and enjoying being in quasi-retirement from Bluebird, and I’m happy for her, but it makes me feel like shit to be there because I’m not happy like that. And it makes me feel like I’m just crashing her vibe. I can’t go stay with my mom, because she really doesn’t get it. Like, any of it, and lately my feelings towards her have been beyond complicated, which I know I should totally be over, at this point, she’ been clean for like three years now, but I just… I love my mom so much, but sometimes when I’m with her I can only think of the ways she let me down, hurt me. And that’s toxic as fuck for the both of us so that rules that out until I’m in a better place.” She took a breath, and Jason felt more connections pinging at the back of his brain. They weren’t as fun to remember as Dinah.

“The manor is absolutely out of the question,” Stephanie continued, her voice slowly but steadily rising as she spoke. It was like her thoughts had been pressure cooking inside her, and Jason had flipped the valve. “I always feel weird there anyway, because I’m not one of Bruce’s kids, you know, I just dated Tim and put myself on the team, but we’re obviously not that close anymore and B put me on vigilante lockdown. So I can’t even go over there pretending to be useful. But all those places are places where people want me, or they say they want me, and it’s where I’m supposed to be happy but I’m not. I don’t really have any other options. And lately it’s just been this cycle, and I’m tired of it. And I wanted to go out tonight and, I don’t know, give a big ‘fuck you’ to Batman and feel like I was, like I was taking control, and I thought you would get it. I didn’t think you would tell me no. You would just let me hit shit until I felt better or burnt myself out.”

Jason narrowed his eyes. “And?”

“And I don’t feel better. I don’t know if I’m burnt out either. I’m just stuck here in this shithole apartment with Jason fucking Todd of all people letting me ramble like an angst-ridden teenager.”

Jason raised an eyebrow, somewhat offended. “Shithole?”

“Sorry.” Another annoyed huff, though Jason suspected this one was more at herself. “For what it’s worth, I’d rather be here than in that manor.” Steph frowned. She looked at Jason, fixing her eyes on his. “Is this how you feel? Just… angry, all the time? Listless? Getting on Batman’s bad side and moving between seedy apartments when you’re avoiding that god-awful house with too many rooms? Hitting people to make you feel better? I... want to feel better.” She lifted her head, squaring her jaw slightly.

Jason unconsciously leaned forward slightly, like a predator that had caught the scent. So this was where this was going. “No,” he said, forcing himself to lean back slightly. “I’m not always angry. And I don’t always feel like that; I actually take great pains to not be like that, thank you very much. I think you want me to feel like that, though, so I can tell you why you’re sad and you can just fix it in yourself. It ain’t that easy, sweetheart. I don’t exist just to be your cautionary tale, nor am I your model for self-recovery. Sometimes shit's just bad, and you've just gotta deal.”

Stephanie balled her fists, not meeting his eyes. “You don’t have to be an ass about it, Jason.”

Jsaon felt his temper rising. She was pushing buttons, and that was usually his move. God, he could almost hear Bruce’s voice, warning his impressionable young Robins off of Jason’s path.

“You didn’t have to gatecrash my bust,” Jason said, refocusing on Stephanie. “But here we are.” Jason smiled; it wasn’t pretty. “Are you just mad ‘cause Bruce benched you? If so, you need to just get over it. It’s not personal. Everybody gets benched, and trust me, it’s not worth making a whole big scene over.”

“It feels personal,” Stephanie shot back, tone eding from defensive to desperate. “It feels personal. To me. Like I’m fuckup Robin again, who can’t do anything right. And when he gets like that it just becomes so suffocating. Cass starts treating me like I’m spun glass, like I’m going to fall into a coma at any moment. Dick gets awkward and apologetic over it, but he won’t fight Bruce. He doesn’t want another stupid, hothead Robin dead.”

Jason’s smile grew more angular, sharper. “Then why don’t you talk to Timmers about it?”

Steph’s face grew a shade darker. “We aren’t really talking right now.”

“Mm.” Jason sipped his tea. “Superboy sure has been visiting Gotham a lot lately, considering B keeps Gotham quarantined from other heroes.”

Steph’s eyes were flinty. “Sure has.”

There was another silence. Jason’s grip on his mug was clenching tighter and tighter. Inside, Jason was frowning. This was not a fun experience for him. The whole time she had been speaking, he felt his resolve on his composure slipping and slipping. What, she had been frustrated lately and asked herself ‘hey, Jason used to get angry and kill people but he doesn't do that anymore, let’s go pester him and hope he has some kind soothing words to make me not want to beat thugs to pulp in lieu of therapy?’ He could have left her on that rooftop, but instead he had taken her to his home and treated her leg. Shows how far the whole Good Samaritan routine will take you. He was going to have to close and move this house. She was, fuck, she was drinking his nice tea and digging him about dead Robins? Sitting on his couch and bemoaning the fact that she had her pick between three homes that would be happy to have her if she just got out of her pity party? Somewhere deep inside him, Jason heard a voice urging himself to take a breath, to re-evaluate the situation, to take a step back. He didn’t. He was preoccupied with clenching his teeth, making sure these thoughts stayed inside-thoughts. He hadn't needed to hear all that from her.

“I think I liked you better when I wasn’t your diary,” Jason said at last, rising to rinse out his now-empty mug.

“I liked you better when you were Bruce’s only disappointment.” Her eyes widened as she said it, like she was already regretting it as it came out.

Jason saw red, saw green, felt ice settle in his veins. “So sorry to let you down. We all have our crosses to bear.” He moved back in front of Steph, unholstering his guns and setting them down on the coffee table. He relished the sharp sounds of them hitting the surface, the small ways she flinched. “But you know what’s neat about Bruce? He contains multitudes. It’s how he can dote and disdain at the same time. He’s got disapproval to spare for anyone and everyone that doesn’t live up to his exact vision, but I’m so goddamn lucky because in my case, I died, and he can contain a multitude of guilt on his ass. When he looks at me and frowns and we get in our screaming matches it’s not because of me, it’s because of who I was and who I became. He sees these two little hunks of metal right here and sees it as a way he failed to guide me to his best version of me. B is disappointed in the Red Hood, sure, but he's also disappointed him himself; he's not all that frustrated with me personally. He sees me as a casualty to his lack of planning. But you, I think you’re just feeling guilty because you made him disappointed in Robin.”

The silence that followed wasn’t a therapeutic silence. It was icy and jagged and bleeding sharp. Jason made no attempt to bridge or patch it. Stephanie sat very still on the couch and made every valiant attempt not to show it cutting into her. Jason just shook his head and went to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate dialogue that I ended up not using but didn't want to not put out there at all:
> 
> Thugosaurus cocked his head. “Do you always talk during a fight so much?”  
> “Robin habits die... well, not as easily as Robins,” Red Hood sighed, and then he shot him.
> 
> I'm using a Gotham City Map by tumblr user Doc-Squash. Check out that map and their other work [here](https://doc-squash.tumblr.com/search/reference)


	2. Mend

Jason woke up the next morning feeling shitty.  _ Great _ , he thought as he buried his face in the pillow.  _ You power tripped last night by bullying a teenager. An actual, literal teenager. Great job. Bruce would be proud. _

Jason stumbled out of bed, pulling on his slippers before padding into the main room. Stephanie was already awake, pushing bread into the toaster. “Mornin’,” Jason offered, regretting the way she tensed up at the sound of his voice.

“Hey,” she tentatively offered back.

Jason took a breath. “I want to apologize for last night.”

“You don’t need to,” Stephanie said. She still hadn’t turned to him. “I was out of line.”

“What did you do wrong?”

Stephanie turned at that. “What?” Confusion flitted across her face, along with concern, apprehension. As if this was another trap waiting to be sprung on her. Jason knew that face-- it had worn familiar groves into his forehead and mouth.

“I got mad and blew up, and I’m apologizing, because all the self help books Alfred keeps sending me says this is how we get better. We don’t let it fester.” Jason sighed. “But we’re all stubborn, even when apologizing, so I’m asking you to try and justify my actions so you can realize you deserve my apology. Can you?”

“I said that awful thing about you and Bruce. And I’m sorry.”

Jason nodded. “Yeah, you did say it. We were both getting more and more worked up. And thank you. Anything else?”

“I… uh. I called your apartment a shithole?”

Jason glanced around, smiling faintly. “It ain’t the Ritz Carlton. Doesn’t excuse me. And I’m gonna cut you off there before you start digging for more things to be guilty over. So I’m just gonna say sorry.”

“Oh.” Stephanie turned back around-- Jason could tell that she was fighting with the coffee maker lid. The damn thing always wanted to sit crooked on the water reservoir. She forced it down and punched the button to begin the drip before turning around. Hesitation lingered in her movements. “I didn’t peg you for the apologizing type.”

“Here’s a pro-tip,” Jason said, shuffling past her to dig out coffee mugs. “When you say nasty shit to someone, you always want to get in the last word and then get gone. Because you don’t want to just stand in it. Because as soon as the words are out of your mouth and you realize that they didn’t make you feel better, you’re gonna feel bad. Especially if…” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Especially if you’re just getting carried away. If you hurt someone, run, because then you don’t have to face the fact that you were an ass who said shit out of anger.”

Stephanie narrowed her eyes. “Is that why you don’t stay at the Manor anymore?” When he didn’t answer, she decided to leave that well enough alone for the time being. “I don’t want to hurt people. Well, maybe criminals who deserve it. But like family, I don’t want to hurt them.”

“Most people don’t.” Jason fished out a box of Pop-Tarts, opening a pack and breaking off little pieces. “I can’t help you with whatever you’ve got going on.” It was blunt, but it was honest. “Sounds like you’ve got something going on in your relationships and your self worth and who knows what else. And I’ve got my own damage to sort through. And I don’t think I could give you anything constructive, not really. But what I’m gonna do is this. We’re going to cover you for you last night. I’ll figure it out; Babs has a soft spot for me. We’re gonna get you, like, a bajillion dollar therapist and have Bruce fund it somehow, because if he keeps dragging people into his crusade he can at least foot their mental health bills. And then, we’re going to start having a monthly coffee.”

“Coffee?” Enough had percolated for Stephanie to be able to pour herself a cup-- she did, replacing the carafe.

“Yeah, a Dead Robins Coffee Hour. Where you just say shit. And it’s not therapy, because that would be a trainwreck for both of us, but obviously you want to talk to someone who gets it. You were right to hunt me out specifically out of the rest of the family. And despite what I may have said last night, I didn’t go through everything just so other people can think they’re alone.”

Stephanie was silent for a moment, watching her toast pop up. “Some of that sounds dangerously like Bruce,” she hazarded. She hoped it wasn’t the wrong thing to say.

“Maybe so,” Jason chuckled.The comment didn’t pang in his chest like he had half expected. “But let’s hope only the good stuff.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At the risk of being the author that rambles about their work, I just wanted to say that the idea of a Steph and Jason fic fell in my head one day and absolutely would not leave. I think they're both woefully under-used and mistreated characters, and that they have really interesting parallels that would drive them together. That said, I think they both have their own egos and hangups and issues to work through; I think Steph will always spend some time thinking that she's an auxiliary player, that she doesn't understand her own importance to others. Jason, I feel, will always struggle to feel like he has to be in control of a situation, and have an urge to hurt before he can be hurt. His dip in the Lazarus Pit probably didn't help. They've both been hurt, and have reasons to be angry, but they're more than vessels for anger, and are more than capable of self reflection and growth.I'm not planning on doing a second work to this one, but maybe? Depends if the idea demands telling.
> 
> Comments are always very appreciated!


End file.
